


Queen of Nassau

by vix_spes



Series: All At Sea [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Regency, Badass Women, Cunnilingus, F/F, Golden Age of Piracy, M/M, Pirates, Vaginal Fingering, elements of Black Sails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21515548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: Her word was law. She was respected and, though few would admit it, feared and admired in equal measure.She, was the Queen of Nassau.
Relationships: Jimmy Price/Brian Zeller, Mischa Lecter/Chiyoh
Series: All At Sea [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1373248
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36
Collections: #HanniBelles2019





	1. Chapter 1

Every morning, as the dawn broke over the waters of the Caribbean, a slight figure could be seen on the ramparts of the Fort of Nassau, overseeing all they surveyed.

The figure - that of Mischa Lecter - was well-known to the pirates of Nassau, indeed to pirates all over the Caribbean. Only, she wasn’t known to them as Mischa Lecter, she was known as Mischa Fell, daughter of the former self-proclaimed Governor. Whether Fell or Lecter, she was the Queen of Nassau. Blonde and beautiful, she ruled Nassau and New Providence with a spine as strong as iron, a mind like a trap and a sweet smile that belied her strength and ruthlessness. Every ship that docked in Nassau paid a levy to her and she controlled stores of food, drink and weapons, owned the main tavern and ran several brothels featuring men and women, alphas, betas and omegas.

Her word was law. She was respected and, though few would admit it, feared and admired in equal measure.

There were few pirates alive who could tell you the details of how Mischa came to Nassau. Most of them were dead and a fair few of them were at Mischa’s hands herself. One of those who could remember was Jimmy Price, the beta who stood at her side. He had worked for her father before her, had watched her grow over the years into the woman she was today. Had watched as she had clawed her way to the top and then fought to stay there through hell or high water. His lover, Brian Zeller, probably knew the truth as well, given how close the two of them were, but those two would rather die than reveal their mistresses secrets.

As for Mischa. Well, people would always think what they wanted irrespective of the truth. She didn't particularly care what people thought of her, as long as they obeyed her.

What she did know was that, much as she revelled in it now, this wasn’t the life that she was supposed to have had. In another life, she would have been the wife of some aristocrat, good for nothing but small talk, needlework and birthing pups. She couldn’t imagine anything worse. Here, now, she controlled her own fate.

Mischa had been born the much-loved beta daughter to the aristocratic Lecter family of Lithuania. Perhaps not the desired for secondary gender but the Lecter’s already had the alpha heir and Mischa’s beauty and blue blood would do much to assuage the fact that she was a beta. Her parents but, in particular, her much older brother had doted upon her almost to the point of spoiling her and Mischa had grown up in Lecter Castle educated, loved and happy. 

It had all gone wrong when she was eight years old, all of it ripped away.

Even now, she wasn’t completely cognisant of everything that had happened. She remembered plenty of hushed conversations between her parents and Hannibal, of harried looks and conversations that stopped when she entered the room. She remembered Hanni waking her in the middle of the night and putting her in the family carriage with no opportunity to see her parents. Hanni had kissed her goodbye and promised her that he would see her soon, that she would have a lovely time in Paris with their Uncle Robertus and Aunt Murasaki, that he and their parents would join her soon. The last thing that Mischa heard, as the carriage sped away from Castle Lecter, had been the sound of screams in the distance.

Yet, despite Hannibal’s best intentions, his determination that she be saved, she had never made it to Paris. Never made it to her Uncle Robertus and Aunt Murasaki. Never saw her parents or her beloved Hanni again.

Mischa wasn’t completely certain where it happened, but at some point on the journey, her coach had been attacked. There had been loud shouts before the coach had come to a sudden halt, throwing Mischa to the floor. The clash of steel on steel had followed along with the sound of pistols firing. The coach door had been pulled open and Mischa and her chaperone forced from it. Mischa had then suffered through the terrifying experience of seeing her chaperone and the grooms sent with the coach being killed. With no-one to stop them, she had been carried away and taken to the shore where she had been put on a ship. They had been at sea for days, longer than Mischa could really follow. Mischa had been confined to a cabin for most of the journey, but had been occasionally allowed above decks when they were in open waters. Every now and then, there had been the sound of fighting, pistols firing, the clash of steel on steel, shouting and the booming thunder of cannon fire.

Now, she was aware of the route that they had taken. As soon as she had been able to read maps and been given the opportunity, she had traced her journey. Some of it had been sheer guesswork, other sections of the journey more educated. 

She knew that she had been put aboard a ship on the northern coast of Europe given that she was journeying from Castle Lecter in Lithuania to Paris. That, given the low temperatures during the early part of the journey, they had travelled through the Baltic Sea and into the North Sea before crossing the Atlantic Ocean and into the balmier climes of the Caribbean where they had made berth on New Providence Island.

It had been there, in Nassau, that she had met Governor and Mrs Fell. It had been here, in her first experience of a totally new world, that Mischa had met Roman Fell for the first time. That she had left the name Mischa Lecter behind and become Mischa Fell.

Roman Fell had been a reasonably successful businessman in the Americas - although his family held him in low regard - before he had decided to move to New Providence Island with his wife Lydia and their only child. Once there, he had expanded his business dealings to incorporate the growing number of pirates operating within the Caribbean, becoming the most successful black marketeer in the area. Yet, his business successes did not mean that his young daughter was safe from British attempts to regain New Providence Island from the pirates. She had been killed in a British raid and neither Roman nor Lydia had truly recovered from her loss, particularly given that Lydia was unable to have another child.

The arrival of a little blonde girl all by herself had - in their eye - solved all of their problems and Mischa had found herself adopted by the Fell’s. They were not her family, but they were a family.

Lydia Fell had died when Mischa was just twelve years old, wasting away before finally succumbing to disease. Another person in her life lost. And not long after, she had lost Roman as well. Not to death, but to grief. He had lost both his wife and his daughter to death and, though he loved her, Mischa simply wasn't enough to keep him in Nassau. He retreated into his books and his memories, leaving much of his business in the hands of his trusted servant, Jimmy Price.

For the next four years, Roman Fell was simply a figurehead for his businesses. In reality, everything was controlled by Jimmy. Quiet and unassuming when he wanted to be, Jimmy was the power behind his throne and, trailing at his side, Mischa had learned everything she knew. Enough that, when Roman decided to retreat to Harbour Island when she was sixteen, Mischa felt confident enough that she could take his place.

That was precisely what she had done. With Jimmy standing at her side, as he had with her father, and with the later addition of Brian Zeller, Mischa had not only taken control of the Fell holdings, she had taken control of Nassau. Oh, there were some who complained. Said it wasn't a woman's job, that she wouldn't cope. Mischa had reminded them of Anne Bunny and, when that hadn't been enough, had proved them all wrong by shooting dead the most notorious pirate on the island. 

James Gray.

British by birth, he had left his homeland to avoid the noose although no-one knew the precise details. He was charming, ruthless and sadistic. He was also of the opinion that a woman's place was serving men, not commanding them. He intended to take Roman's place and then take Mischa, detailing crudely every single thing that he intended to do to her. Gray was so caught up in his own myth that he hadn't even contemplated the possibility that he wouldn't achieve his goals. What he certainly hadn't expected was for Mischa, rather than cowering in fear, to laugh in his face before snatching his own gun and shooting him with it.

No one had had the gall to challenge her since.

Sometimes, she did wonder what her family - her parents, Hannibal - would make of her life now. Would they approve of everything that she had done, what she had achieved? The fact that their daughter was the Queen of Nassau. Would they be proud? Or would they be horrified? 

It was a question that Mischa found herself contemplating on a frequent basis.

“Mistress? The Handmaiden has been seen on the horizon. They should be here by nightfall.”

Mischa looked up and smiled at the man who had almost been like a surrogate brother. “Thank you, Jimmy.”

At least there was someone from Mischa’s past that was proud of her, of what she had achieved.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite her intentions to be on the dockside when The Handmaiden came into port, Mischa found herself waylaid by business. This was the worst part of taking on Roman Fell’s work. Jimmy and Brian were incredible but there were always some things that they couldn’t take care of, things that Mischa absolutely had to take care of herself. It never failed to escape her notice that it was always the pirates that caused her problems and the alphas more often than not. There also tended to be correlation with country of origin as well; despite how she had taken care of James Gray, the British pirates were often the worst. The occupants of Nassau – be they alpha, beta or omega – obeyed Mischa’s rule as law and it was only the arrogant alpha pirates that tried to push the boundaries. They were all dealt with ruthlessly and quickly.

Sometimes, as with this evening, that meant bloodily.

Mischa wasn’t a fan of killing, especially not for the sake of it, but sometimes she was left with no other choice. This particular alpha had had several warnings for his behaviour. He didn’t follow the rules in the brothels Mischa regarding treatment of her whores and had roughed them up as well as trying to cheat her out of taxes and goods, as mandated by the governance of Nassau. He had had his warnings and he had refused to listen. Tonight, he had taken a knife to one of her whores and he had paid for it with his blood. There was now one captain in Nassau who needed a new deckhand.

Cleaning off her knife – sometimes a blade was far more satisfying than a pistol – Mischa slipped out of the back door of her office so that she wouldn’t get waylaid. Jimmy or Brian would take care of the mess for her. She didn’t want to be kept from Chiyoh for any longer than possible.

Chiyoh was one of those mysterious parts of Mischa’s former life.

Mischa had vague, shadowy memories of her from the one visit that she remembered to her Uncle Robertus and Aunt Murasaki in Paris. Chiyoh had been much closer to Hanni in age than Mischa and, while she had been kind to the small beta, they had not spent much time together. In many ways, Mischa liked that. She liked that Chiyoh could corroborate some memories that she still had and that she could tell Mischa tales of her childhood that she didn’t remember. Yet, what she liked more, was that Chiyoh knew the true Mischa. The one who wasn’t just the beta daughter of the Lecter family but who was also the daughter of Roman Fell and who had become the Queen of Nassau without letting her designation control her.

By all appearances, Mischa’s private rooms were empty. Not a single thing was out of place and the curtains blew gently in the breeze. Yet, Mischa knew differently. There was a different energy in the space when Chiyoh was there. Mischa couldn’t quite explain it but what she did know was that Chiyoh was a remarkable beta. One that could be easily mistaken for an alpha from her mannerisms and actions. Much like Mischa. What she did know was that Chiyoh was in this room and she couldn’t get the door closed and bolted quick enough. The second that the door was locked behind her, the shadows by the French windows moved and Chiyoh materialised out of them.

The two of them waited for a minute, ensuring that they weren’t going to be interrupted, hearing nothing but the muted sounds from the tavern and the brothels, the distant sound of a fight in the streets. When they heard nothing, they came together with the ease of long familiarity. Mischa was not always celibate when Chiyoh was not on Nassau, and she had never been afraid to use sex to get what she wanted, but there were never the emotions involved that there were with Chiyoh.

Mischa sighed happily at the feeling of Chiyoh’s sea and wind chapped lips against her, the way that her hands went Mischa’s hips. She knew that, once those hands touched her skin, the callouses that came from wielding a sword and manning the wheel of The Handmaiden in all weather would have her skin tingling. It was easy to surrender with Chiyoh. Mischa trusted the older woman implicitly and that made it easier for her to give up control. It wasn’t something that came easily. Mischa was so used to having to be the dominant personality, to having to take charge, that it was a relief to surrender to her lover. To trust in Chiyoh. To allow herself to be vulnerable.

Mischa’s head fell back as Chiyoh started to trail kisses across her jaw and down to the swell of her breasts as she manoeuvred Mischa towards the bed. Mischa fumbled at the buckle of Chiyoh’s sword-belt, letting it fall to the floor, even as Chiyoh removed the pistol belt at Mischa’s own waist. Should the unbelievable happen and there was an attack, even if they got past Jimmy and Brian, it was hardly as though they were unarmed. Mischa had long kept swords in the bedhead and there were pistols under the pillows. Some might call it paranoia, Mischa called it being sensible.

Mischa got as far as pushing the frockcoat off Chiyoh’s shoulders before she got distracted by Chiyoh swiftly unlacing Mischa’s bodice and stripping her of bodice, skirts, blouse and under things until she was completely bare and sprawled across the bed.

There was something about Mischa being naked while Chiyoh was still dressed that got Mischa a little hotter. The way that the fabric brushed against her skin. The way that it made it feel as though Chiyoh had all the power, the way that it allowed Mischa to submit. It gave her a freedom that she didn’t have elsewhere in her life and it was refreshing.

What was also refreshing was the way that Chiyoh’s priority was Mischa’s pleasure. It was never a rushed thing. It took as long as it took. She also knew exactly what brought Mischa the most pleasure. With Mischa laid out before her, Chiyoh feasted upon her like a buffet. She trailed kisses across Mischa’s neck and collarbones, lavishing attention on Mischa’s breasts. Mischa arched into Chiyoh’s mouth with breathy moans as Chiyoh sucked her nipples into her mouth, beginning for more at the slight bite of teeth on sensitive flesh.

Chiyoh didn’t stop there. She used tongue, teeth and fingers to bring Mischa to the brink of orgasm. Yet, she kept Mischa teetering on the edge, not allowing to fall over into her release. It was almost as though Chiyoh had decided that, having been separated for as long as they had, she was going to torment Mischa as much as possible. As Chiyoh’s mouth moved south, her fingers continued to pluck at Mischa’s nipples, keeping Mischa on the edge.

And then Chiyoh’s mouth was on her sex, Mischa all but wailing at the overwhelming pleasure. Mischa might have slept with other people when Chiyoh wasn’t in port, but none of them took the same amount of care with her. They didn’t care about Mischa’s pleasure like Chiyoh did. The alphas couldn’t give a fuck as to whether she received her pleasure or not. Chiyoh? She was the opposite. Mischa bucked and writhed at the feeling of Chiyoh’s fingers within her, brushing over that spot that drove her pleasure ever higher even as she moved her mouth lower. Many of the alphas that she had slept with viewed Mischa’s cunt as somewhere to conduct business. Chiyoh couldn’t be more different. She used her fingers and tongue on Mischa’s cunt to ensure that Mischa tipped over the edge into pure pleasure. Chiyoh used her fingers to spread Mischa’s cunt wide and her tongue to drive her pleasure ever hight until Mischa reached her peak with a loud cry and a breathy moan as she subsided onto the bed.

Trying to focus, Mischa lifted her arm and attempted to shove Chiyoh’s trousers down narrow hips, wanting to reciprocate the favour but Chiyoh caught her wrist and brought it to her lips.

“Later.”

Mischa wanted to protest but was quite willing to be distracted by Chiyoh slipping out of her clothes and into their bed, moving willingly into her arms.

(~*~)

“There have been rumours.”

It took Mischa a while to respond, given that she had her face buried in Chiyoh’s neck. As betas, their sense of smell wasn’t as acute as that of an alpha or an omega, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t smell anything. They simply couldn’t catch all of the nuances of scent that alphas and omegas could. Chiyoh’s scent was one of Mischa’s favourite things and whenever The Handmaiden put back out to sea, Mischa found herself doing whatever she could to preserve Chiyoh’s scent in their bedchamber for as long as she possibly could.

Now, in their bed, surrounded by their scents mixed with the scent of sex, she found it hard to focus, to summon the mantle of the Queen of Nassau. Still, she managed it. Just. After all, she knew that it had to be important for Chiyoh to bring it up here and now.

“What rumours?”

“A new ship in the Caribbean.”

That got Mischa’s attention. She may have been more interested in other things, namely the tempting curve of Chiyoh’s breast that was just there, but she was the Queen of Nassau and business came first, before everything. “Navy or pirate?”

“Pirate. And very successful as well. The ship’s called The Wendigo.”

The Wendigo. Mischa let her tongue wrap around the words, something about them tugging at some distant corner of her brain.

“Why haven’t we heard of them before?”

“They were mostly operating in the Mediterranean and north European seas until now.”

Mischa sat up, determinedly not letting herself by the way that the movement exposed Chiyoh’s perfect breasts. “Why have they made the move?”

Chiyoh didn’t respond. Instead, she simply trailed her fingers gently up and down Mischa’s spine, sword calluses making Mischa shiver now and then. Chiyoh had never been one to be verbose but something about this particular silence had Mischa on edge. She disliked pulling rank on her lover – they were very much equals, something that was helped by them both being betas - but she would do so, if necessary. At this particular moment, it looked as though Chiyoh was going to make it necessary. She waited for several long minutes but there was still no information forthcoming.

“Chiyoh. Why are we hearing about them now? Why has the crew of The Wendigo made the move to the Caribbean from the Mediterranean?”

“Because of you.”

Mischa blinked. That wasn’t an entirely new sentiment. There had been plenty over the years that thought they could tame the Queen of Nassau. The beta bitch as some called her. Not even the way that she had dealt with James Gray had dissuaded men – mostly alphas - from seeking her out. Yet, there was something in the tone of Chiyoh’s voice that made Mischa pause.

“They’re not coming for me because I’m Queen of Nassau, are they?”

Chiyoh sat up, her hand falling to curl around Mischa’s hip. “The Captain of The Wendigo. He is nicknamed Hannibal the Cannibal but, in truth, he is named Captain Lecter.”

_Hannibal._

It had to be him. How many parents would name their child Hannibal Lecter?

What were the odds that both children of the noble house of Lecter had turned to a life of piracy? She wondered what her parents would think. Would they be completely horrified? She couldn’t help but wonder what had caused Hannibal, her beloved Hanni, to turn to piracy. When her parents had sent her to Paris, he had been beloved by not only herself and their parents but by the whole of the aristocracy. Hannibal had been not just an aristocratic alpha and the much sought-after heir to the Lecter estate and title, he had been a much-respected doctor. He had been expected to marry an aristocratic omega and settle down to continue the Lecter line, so why would he have given all of that up?

The prospect of seeing her beloved brother again – because every pirate vessel in the Caribbean ended up in Nassau at some point or other – was both exhilarating and terrifying. What if he didn’t remember her? If he did remember her, would he recognise her? What if he was horrified by what she had done? Or would he be proud? What if he didn’t want anything to do with her?

Mischa’s breath caught in her throat as Chiyoh continued to speak, stopping Mischa’s thoughts from spiralling.

“There are rumours about him. It is said that Captain Lecter is blue-blooded, a member of the nobility; an Alpha Count turned to piracy. It is said that he roams the seas in search of his sister, stolen as a child on her way to visit family.”

Mischa felt as though she had taken a blow to the chest.

All of the breath in her lungs rushed out of her in a rush.

Hannibal was alive. And not just that but, if the rumours were to be believed, he had turned to piracy in an attempt to find her.

It was almost too much.

She would allow herself this. One night to mourn what she had lost, to wonder at what she might gain. One night to allow herself to embrace emotions and not hide them. One night to _feel_ in the safety of Chiyoh’s embrace.

As soon as the dawn broke the horizon she would, once again, be the Queen of Nassau.


End file.
